


Meditations on an Apocalypse

by LadyLaguna



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5903482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaguna/pseuds/LadyLaguna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edgar records a few observations about the world and himself, post-Cataclysm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meditations on an Apocalypse

When one is truly prepared to leave this mortal coil, they say he thinks back to the most notable experiences in his life. My own time in this world has been quite eventful, but lately I find myself ruminating over the same handful of events:

The first time I made love to a woman,  
The first time I made love to a man,  
My coronation ( _What a bittersweet time that was!_ ),  
And the end of the world.

We flew too close to the sun, and as the Gods warned us, we burned our wings away! But who could pity me, a deposed God’s son, when I am the only man alive who has experienced such sensation of flight! As I fell from the sky, I felt I could do little else but savor this feeling.

I told myself, during those precious few moments, that even if I must die at the end, the experience-- oh, that feeling!-- was worth the price I paid.

And still I pay.

~

In recent weeks I have become fascinated with decay.

Not just any kind of decay, mind. Specifically, the skeletons of old buildings, burned from inside out, cracked in half, their upper stories collapsing upon the bottom floors. Sometimes, the windows remain standing even after charred bricks around them have crumbled away.

Even from a distance, I can often spot the effects of the families that used to live in them. Children’s toys, armoires, brooms, buckets, paintings. Nothing of value, of course. Looters gutted these places long ago. So now they are only dioramas, silent reminders of the world that once was.

Sometimes they sit alone in the dusty expanse where grass used to grow, amidst barren farmland. Occasionally they sit in the middle of a row of houses, in towns full or not so full. Victims to Kefka’s whims or simple bad luck. I encounter countless examples in my travels these days. Regardless of where they are, I stop and study them.

Why do they pull my attention so? Continually, I ask myself this question. It could be that my mind is still trying to grasp the enormity of this tragedy. I have yet to mourn.

There was no time to mourn when my father died. Or when my brother left. Always did the wolves nip at my heels and I had to stay sharp and quick, in front of them. But even then I did not understand tragedy. Still safe within castle walls, I pulled the strings of all my puppets and hoped for the best. I heard of tragedy from them. I heard of death and destruction and all that comes along with war, but rarely did I witness any of it with my own eyes. Everything in my world remained standing, and when people died, they did so hundreds of miles from me.

I did all I could. The deck was stacked against me from the start. I don’t feel any regret, or guilt. Perhaps it is my overly analytical nature that allows me to live with my failures so easily.

Or perhaps this is my means of mourning. By bearing witness to these monuments, I accept full responsibility for what happened to the families they used to shelter.

~

I started to grow a beard.

I look very much like my brother...

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the work is from this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWWxDO3Z3U0 Which I'm sure most FF6 fans are familiar with! If not, check out the whole album!


End file.
